my brother and sister and I, we always knew where we were in the priority list: after King, country, Parliament, Prime Minister. And probably a few favourite charities. In that order.’
Bella was stunned. The Queen was always supposed to be the perfect mother. The King was said to be eccentric and distant but not the Queen, never. She did not know what to say.
Fortunately, Richard did not wait for an answer. ‘Of course, even my mother couldn’t get round a direct command from the King. So we had to go sometimes. And when he died, she lost all her options. We all did.’
‘Oh, love.’ Bella was appalled. She slid off the stool and rubbed his back in futile but heartfelt solidarity.
He leaned back into her touch while he carried on cooking.
‘Worse for my father. I think now that he was probably terrified that he was going to turn out like the old man, once he was King. I’ve noticed that the nastiest thing you can say to him is, “You’re just like your father.” Sometimes one of the elderly relatives does it and he goes into a brown study for days.’
She said, ‘I thought you were the perfect family. No divorces. No mistresses. No scandals.’
‘No scandals? My brother George? Riding a motorbike through the centre of Bristol, dressed as a banana?’
Bella spluttered. ‘Must have missed that one.’
‘Oh yes, it probably happened while you were off on your island. The paparazzi shadowed him for weeks after that, hoping for an encore.’
She gurgled. ‘Well, OK then. No major scandals.’
‘You can be dysfunctional and keep it quiet, you know.’
The chicken was done to his satisfaction. He removed the joints, turned down the gas and fed the vegetables into the warm pan. At one point he splashed some wine over them. At another he added a dribble of this, a pinch of that, and a lot of fresh tarragon. The room began to smell heavenly. He tasted.
‘Not quite. What do you think?’ He offered her a teaspoon. She swirled the sauce round her tastebuds. ‘Tastes wonderful to me.’
‘Not enough bite. Hand me that lemon.’
She did. He chopped it in half and squeezed it over the vegetable goo, filtering the pips through the fingers of his other hand.
‘Taste now.’
She did, closing her eyes. ‘Yummy.’
‘It will be.’ He slapped the chicken back into the pan and spooned the vegetables on top. Then he got the casserole dish out of the oven, tipped the entire contents of the pan into it, and shot it back. He adjusted the temperature and the timer.
And then he washed up!
Bella stared, astounded.
‘You must be the perfect man. If that was me, I’d be sitting down with a large glass of something, patting myself on the back, and leaving the dishes for later.’
Richard laughed. ‘In a galley you wash up as you go. No room to do anything else. But sitting down with a large glass is good too.’
When he’d returned the work surface to pristine condition, he took her hand, another glass and the bottle of wine, and took them all to the other end of the room. It was chillier away from the cooker and Bella shivered involuntarily. He switched on a serviceable electric fire which she hadn’t noticed before, and then contrived a nest of cushions for her in the built-in couch.
He topped up her glass and flung himself back in the battered old armchair, looking at her with such affectionate pleasure that Bella hardly recognised him. Nobody had ever looked at her like that, as if they had been given a prize. She felt warm and flattered and flustered and strangely humble at the same time. But she hadn’t a clue what to do next. So she cuddled down into her cushions and did nothing.
Eventually he gave a long sigh of satisfaction. ‘This is nice.’
‘Mmmm. You said it was your godfather’s boat?’
He smiled lazily. ‘Strictly you should say her about a boat. He lived here for years. This is still pretty much all his stuff – the campaign desk, the books, the furniture. We put in a new galley because the old stuff was dangerous, and we replaced the skylights with modern, double-glazed ones that are easy to open. But otherwise, it’s the same.’
‘Isn’t that a bit creepy?’
He gave a shout of laughter. ‘That’s my Bella. Tell the truth and shame the devil. Yes, it could be creepy in theory. In practice it isn’t because he wasn’t that sort of man. He taught me to sail and how